Stranger Than Fiction
by Socially Suicidal
Summary: When the professional, no-nonsense doctor met the crude, chain-smoking bouncer, neither of them could have predicted the upset the other would cause to their lives. Who likes change, anyway? Drabble series, AU, GaaSaku. M for sexual implications, substance use, and language. Written in collaboration with: if i had wings
1. Drabble 1

_Short note:_ The first two chapters are really just to establish character, so sadly, no GaaSaku goodness in those. Be comforted, however, that I waited to post this story until _all_ the drabbles were completed. After drabble # 3, there really is no rhyme or reason. My posting them (after these first three chapters), however, will rely entirely on the feedback I get.

**Also**: This little project was done in cooperation with my close friend, known here on FF as if i had wings. She drew gorgeous pictures and helped in the writing of this series. Links to her pictures are on my profile, and the cover image used for this fic is done by her as well. All hail the artist!

_Summary:_ When the professional, no-nonsense doctor met the crude, chain-smoking bouncer, neither of them could have predicted the upset the other would cause to their lives. Who likes change, anyway? Drabble series, AU, GaaSaku. M for sexual implications, substance use, and language. Written in collaboration with: if i had wings

Stranger Than Fiction

By Socially Suicidal

Disclaimer: I do _not_ own Naruto

**Drabble # 1**

Plump, pale pink lips parted with an exhausted sigh. The warm, moist breath mingled with the wintery night air creating a soft screen of fog that puffed out and quickly disappeared. The heavy glass door falling shut with a dull thud behind her, the young woman tugged at her faded turquoise sleeves, pulling them over her dainty hands as she made brisk pace down the dimly lit parking lot.

Haruno Sakura had just endured one of the longest Fridays she had ever been unfortunate enough to experience in her, albeit not exceptionally long, time in the medical field and it was barely passed nine o'clock. Thank the heavens that Tsunade had decided her day had been full enough and had suggested (or commanded) Sakura to cut her shift and retire early.

The older woman had been somewhat of a surrogate mother to Sakura ever since she was a lowly med student studying ferociously to someday graduate the top doctor of her class – a goal she would have attained if it hadn't been for that snobby creep Kabuto transferring in unexpectedly and swiping her title from underneath her delicate nose (yes, and his little dog –namely, Orochimaru – too). Now, a somewhat freshly hired doctor at the esteemed Konoha City Hospital, Tsunade had not abandoned her maternal role but had become a very demanding, but supportive, boss who cared for the girl's welfare deeply and watched her skills develop with keen, expectant eyes.

At the thought of Kabuto, Sakura gave a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold as she remembered her fury from early that day directed at the silver haired worm.

_How can he treat patients like that?_ Her furious inner voice cried from within the recesses of her mind as she slammed the door to her classy off-white 2005 Lexus GS 300, a car that had taken her four years of bartending and bussing tables while studying the medical textbooks splayed out on empty tables as she flew by to save up for, despite the model being three years old at the time of purchase. She still thanked whatever deity watched over her for the scholarship programs that may or may not have saved her a life of waitressing and bartending in order to make ends meet.

Earlier that day, the pinkheaded doctor had witnessed Kabuto, the sniveling four eyed bastard, snapping at an upset mother concerning her ill child as the women had become panicked over the lack of information she had received regarding her daughter's state of being in surgery.

Sakura had promptly flown in, comforting the mother immediately and setting aside her concerns after quickly checking with the nursing staff about her daughter, who was recovering amiably but was still under anesthetic. She had later given Kabuto a stern, if not heated, piece of her mind in the safety of the staff lounge about having the decency as a human being to treat such distressed people with some form of humane sensitivity and compassion. Despite being sure of her words falling on deaf ears, Sakura huffed in satisfaction for putting the conniving little creep in his place, if only for the moment.

Jabbing the key into the ignition, Sakura started the car and carefully backed out of her parking space, remembering how Kabuto's unnatural ability for education had stolen away her dream of being top of her class. The bastard had no people skills to speak of - notwithstanding that creepy charm he had attempted to put on her upon their first meeting - just getting by on his – albeit amazing – skills and wide availability of knowledge. How do you have a doctor that doesn't care about his patients? For heaven's sake!

Her grumbling was met with an interruption as her phone started ringing; coming through over her newly installed Bluetooth system, which had been purchased with the money she received from her recent promotion to assistant Vice President of Medical Affairs, a title shared with Tsunade who also held the esteemed title as Chief of Staff. Her new position held her responsible not only for her own patients but for helping Tsunade communicate hospital goings on with the CEO of the hospital, the elusive Uchiha Madara. The system had cost a good chunk of money but she had figured it was worth it, better safe than sorry, she justified. How would it look it the newly appointed assistant Vice President of Medical Affairs was rushed into the ER after a cellphone related car accident?

Just hired not ten months ago and already promoted, Kabuto could take that and kiss her-

Tenten's voice channeled through her car radio after she had scrambled to answer the call, again interrupting her rambling thoughts, "Hey Sakura!"

The pinkheaded girl warmly returned the greeting as she turned right down the small, isolated street her apartment was located on.

"Are you working?" The brunette asked casually, and Sakura was too distracted by all the morons crossing the street and preventing her from getting home to notice the oddness of the abrupt question.

"Actually I'm just on my way home now, or **trying **to be," the doctor grumbled as she attempted to inch her way through the swarms of people casually strolling around on the street, "I swear, do these people not know that the black pavement is a _street _not a sidewalk?"

There were many perks to living off of the main urban road, but the people bustling around casually at night were definitely not one of them.

"Great!" chirped Tenten over the radio, "A bunch of us were thinking of going out tonight. I know last minute, but it really seems to be working out for everyone!"

Blinking in surprise to the sudden suggestion as she pulled into a spot near her apartment, Sakura audibly hesitated, to which Tenten hurriedly continued pitching the idea to her busy friend, "It's just that everyone's always busy all the time, especially you with all the crazy hours you work, and we haven't at all gotten a chance to really hang out together in how many years? It'll be fun!"

Sakura paused her formulating of an excuse not to come out (in favor of staying home and relaxing in attempt to enjoy her time away from a hectic time at work) but found some truth to Tenten's words about never seeing the old friends she held dear. "Alright," she sighed, "What are we doing? Dinner?" Sakura suggested hopefully, her stomach giving a low rumble at the prospect.

"You're so old Sakura!" Laughed the brunette, "We're going clubbing! Ino's working tonight so we'd thought we'd visit her. I'll send you the address of the club we're headed to and we'll all meet there at about midnight, okay? Wear something sexy, you'll have fun - I promise!" With that, the line cut off and Sakura groaned at the prospect of a long night of uncomfortable heels, too-short skirts, stomach churning alcohol, and hordes of far too intoxicated individuals.

Pulling into a spot near her apartment, Sakura cut the engine and gathered her bag, preparing to face the cold once more and brooding over what outfit would be comfortable but appropriate for the club scene. On the bright side, she would have time to feed her cat.

Sighing, Sakura hustled into her building, realizing how, in her surprise from the invitation, she had neglected to ask Tenten what other friends would be joining them.


	2. Drabble 2

Stranger Than Fiction

By Socially Suicidal

Disclaimer: I do _not_ own Naruto

**Drabble # 2**

Red-orange glow, emanating heat and danger, emerged from within the depths of fluid inside the small cheap black plastic container. The cold urban wind whipped aggressively against it. It flickered from the abuse and finally disappeared back to the depths from which it came.

He growled lowly in deep frustration.

Long pale ligaments surrounded the miniature fountain of fire, protecting the object from another passing breeze. The flame sprang to life from its abyss once more, and he wasted no time in dipping his head forward, causing the _clink_ering of the chain drooping from one of the many metal studs piercing his ear, and allowing the head of his unbranded cigarette become engulfed in the tiny blaze. The paper fizzled and the rich tobacco inside began to slowly burn when he allowed the flame to submerge itself back into its cozy home once more. Tossing the lighter into his back pocket along with the small metal case in which held more white sticks identical to the one currently stuck between his pale lips, he puffed on the cigarette and inhaled sharply.

Potent Albanian tobacco smoke curled around him like tendrils, or the arms of a lover if his mood was right, and the smell engulfed his entire being. Albanian tobacco made rolling the damn things himself worthwhile. He slowly exhaled, closing his eyes as his body lost some of the tightly bound tension coiled in previously stiff muscles.

He rolled his shoulders and surveyed the area surrounding him as he inhaled and exhaled the burning tobacco methodically. The sidewalks were littered with individuals, the waste of humanity, in his opinion, scampering about. He scoffed at the few rushing happily into the club at the still early hour in groups or holding hands and others sloppily stumbling out of the doors in their drunken stupidity, groping at each other or wailing obnoxiously in their alcohol induced stupor.

Leaning against the bricks behind him, the redhead's eyes narrowed as they fell upon the two scantily clad females he had the displeasure of encountering earlier that night as they blindly stumbled out to their car. Their neon colored, skin tight skirts hiked well higher on their beings than he would have preferred to be subjected to witnessing as the mixture of their ridiculous looking heels and their high alcohol consumption swayed them violently. Laughing hyenas, they clutched onto one another for support and drew a variety of attention their way. He grunted and took a long drag, leaning his head back and letting out a long stream of smoke as he recalled the attention the same two brainless bimbos had attracted earlier in the club.

Easily the most disliked sort of people he was forced to encounter, the two broads had found themselves in a heated argument with a group of rowdy gentlemen who, having taken notice of their less-than dignified appearances, had become more than angered by their refusal to join them in a stroll to the alley behind the club.

He, of course, was forced to step in on behalf of the females and promptly compelled the group of drooling idiots to grace him with their departure. The two flanked him when he came back in, batting their plastic eyelashes and gushing over the impressive display of force he had executed in his persuasion that caused the group of thug's parting. Resisting the urge to remove the two in a similar fashion, he reigned in his self-control and bit out a snarling insult that _persuaded _them in a, remarkably, similar fashion to leave him alone and find company elsewhere.

The two truly were some of the most brainless examples of the stupidity in humanity he had witnessed, making him nearly grateful for the scarce few of those both dense and bold enough to approach him in the method they had. They accurately exemplified every quality of the female gender that grated his every last fiber of being, making him abhor anything with breasts that was stupid enough to open its mouth. Of course, male as he was, there were _few_ he enjoyed the company of, but with those he never left time for conversation, nearly getting what he required and getting the hell out before they had the chance to subject him to their senseless yapping.

That incident, however irritating and repulsive, had occurred hours ago, and since then the night had gone on as per usual. There were a few morons that had become rowdy and forced him to eradicate them from the nightclub property, but no more than was normal, just enough to keep him from becoming too bored as he scanned over the mass of grinding figures. The normalcy had nearly relaxed him, as opposed to change as he was.

The gruff sound of his oldest sibling's strained voice shook the young man from his short-lived serenity when his ears rang with, "Gaara! Will you hurry the fuck up; I was starting to think you got lost!"

He knew he should have taken his cigarette break in the back, where he was less likely to be disturbed. Exhaling a quiet, sharp sigh, Gaara ground the nub underneath his heavy rubber and metal boots without which he would be significantly less intimidating standing at his natural height of about five feet six inches. His hand exasperatedly goaded through his thick red locks, ghosting past the series of metal piercing his ear and slid down his pale neck.

Gaara stalked down the sidewalk, passed his irritated blonde sibling and back into the sweaty commotion of the club. His eyes quickly adjusted to the flashing fluorescent lights that greeted him like old friends.

Tasteless house beats bounced the mass of intoxicated bodies around as he weaved through them, the less stoned of them wisely parted for him as their drunken counterparts continued their sloppy thrashing obliviously.

He found the form of the tall blond bartender exchanging words with a man with long, dark hair and a woman clad tightly in lavender sitting at her bar as he silently approached. The woman's sole visible blue eye caught sight of him and she politely excused herself from the conversation and offered her attention to him. Her purple tank top revealed entirely too much cleavage, cutting off above her abdomen, as she leaned against the wooden bar expectantly.

"Usual, Ino," he grunted, black rimmed sea foam eyes scanning over the occupants of the club in the vicinity as he turned his back to the nodding bartender.

A small glass was placed next to him and he took it wordlessly, knocking back the burning liquid swiftly. Ino's sultry voice chuckled behind him, "Long night, huh?"

Nodding in his typical laconic manner, Gaara returned the glass to his coworker and leaned onto a stool at the very end of the bar. By his computation, it was only about one in the morning and the club had just opened about two hours ago – and already he had hit the hard stuff.

From his experience, the redhead could already feel that this night would definitely be a _long_ one. He craved a cigarette already, drowning the need with another shot provided to him by his current favorite female in the current area, the bartender.

Spotting an area that was generally vacant of club-goers, Gaara made his way there, setting against the wall to watch the crowd with guarded scrutiny.


	3. Drabble 3

_Short Note:_ Got some great reviews that led to me posting this early today! Thanks so much to JeanyDeiXzz, Yeslek kelseY, Chihori-chan, and miikodesu! Your reviews were so nice to wake up to today, you guys are simply amazing.

This one is double the length of the first two and the ones following it. I briefly considered breaking it into two, but think of its length as a thank you to anyone who has reviewed my stories and made my day (: I hope you enjoy!

Stranger Than Fiction

By Socially Suicidal

Disclaimer: I do _not_ own Naruto

**Drabble # 3**_._

Smoothing out her tight black skirt with a self-resolving sigh, Sakura closed the car door behind her and promptly began her approach to the club's front doors. Decisively sending what would be the last self-conscious glance down to her heel clad feet as she itched to tug at the black leather straps winding their way provocatively around her calves, Sakura caught a downwind whiff of a familiar scent through the smell of car fumes and cigarette smoke. Her eyes fell upon the familiar face of Tenten, who had just caught sight of her and had begun waving her over excitedly.

Smiling at the taller outgoing girl, Sakura surveyed the short lavender dress hugging her athletically lean form with appreciative eyes, her friend's long brown hair free around her face, and bright honey colored eyes were lightly accented by a nude shade of eye shadow. It was an easy verdict to arrive at; her friend looked natural and sexy.

Tenten greeted her with a warm, friendly hug that reminded Sakura just how much she had missed social interaction with people other than patients, co-workers, and her cat. Nothing against her cat, of course, Whiskers was damn near the best feline acquaintance anyone could ask for, but it was far from cat nature to be as affectionate as human friends. They did have their moments, though.

"You look fantastic, Ten," Sakura laughed into the taller girl's shoulder.

"Thank you, girl, so do you!"

Releasing her, Tenten was just as quickly grabbing her hand and pulling Sakura through the doors, "Everyone is already inside," the brunette explained over one shoulder.

They entered the club and the pinkette's senses were immediately barraged with all sorts of attacks in the forms of sounds, smells, sights, even a sour taste that entered her mouth upon her own anxiety by the scene. The smell of sweat and alcohol burned her nose in an unholy way, the loud house music and bass pounded at her ears that nearly had her gripping her short pink spikes in aggravation. The horde focusing mostly around the center of the dance floor bounced and swayed together like a huge, well-oiled machine. If oil was alcohol, that is.

Sakura couldn't help but feel like an outsider as she gained the stares of all sorts of people as Tenten pulled her through crowds. Perhaps the outfit she had so carefully picked out hadn't been good, after all. She tugged on the hem of her white, flowing halter top that stopped a mere inch above the waist of her black skirt.

It seemed every corner of humanity mingled about the club, not exactly in harmony, but in a sort of accepting co-existence that Sakura probably had no hope of ever being part of.

Overly ambitious doctors had no business being in these sorts of places.

Regardless, the brunette pulled her up to the bar, where seated were some of Sakura's most precious people. Naruto enthusiastically hopped off of his stool, crossing the distance between them in a few long strides before he engulfed her in his warm, already slightly tipsy, embrace. "Sakura!" The blonde cried, before pulling away from the laughing woman and staring down at her, "You look sexy!"

Frowning, she slapped his chest lightly, blaming his alcohol consumption for the extra dose of bluntness he was sporting that night. "Hello, Naruto. Drunk already, are we?"

Behind him, a cocky brunette laughed at the blonde's expense, "Naruto's a lightweight!" Said Kiba, grinning as Sakura's pink head popped up over Naruto's shoulder. She pushed past him and walked toward the group.

Naruto huffed, indignant at the teasing, "Am not," he mumbled and followed after his longtime best friend.

The pinkette leaned against the bar in between the seats of a laughing Kiba and a rather irritated looking Neji. It appeared the Hyuga man was even less interested in being there than she was. Sakura was hardly surprised. "How are ya?" Kiba asked as he leaned toward her to wrap a casual arm around her waist in greeting. She returned the embrace, smiling.

"Well, how are you guys?"

Neji bowed his head slightly in greetings, causing some of his dark hair to fall against over his shoulders, "Well, Sakura, thank you."

She laughed, "Yeah, you look _thrilled_ to be here, Neji."

Tenten hopped onto the stool on the other side of the brunette Hyuga, managing to look somewhat sheepish, "I kind of, er, forced him to come out tonight. But come on, you of all people know what a tight ass he can be sometimes!"

The Hyuga frowned, something like a glower settling over his features as he sipped his drink – probably water, knowing him as the pinkette did – instead of offering a retort. Sakura smiled, placing a warm hand on the man's sleeved arm, "Don't worry, she made me come too." His lip nearly quirked and he nodded his thanks for her sympathy.

"All I know," Naruto slurred slightly, taking another gulp from the glass in his hand as he wound a casual arm around the pink haired girl's shoulders, "Is that I'm glad Ino got a job here, this place is great!"

The aforementioned blonde seemed to materialize before them, wiping down her bar, "Heya Forehead, they finally dragged you outa your office, huh?"

Sakura's lips pursed at her longtime friend, "Sure did, Pig, all to come down here and watch you filling up glasses."

The voluptuous blonde scowled, her brightly manicured hands settling on her hips, "Let's get some drinks in you, fast, girl. I don't think I'll be able to deal with that attitude of yours for long."

Sakura stuck her tongue out at the insult, but otherwise did not try to dispute it. She knew she sometimes wasn't the most pleasant company. It was what it was.

Ino placed a glass of some fruity cocktail in front of her before quickly going to tend to other patrons seated at the bar. Grateful for the chance to dull her nerves, Sakura took a sip, nearly flinching at the sweetness.

"Alright, well," Kiba began as he placed his now empty glass on the bar, "I'm ready to dance. Care to join me, Sakura?"

She forced a smile, flattered by the offer, but politely declined. Tenten energetically led the Inuzuka into the crowd in her stead, leaving her in the company of Neji and Naruto. She pulled herself up onto the now vacant seat.

"Not going to dance with Tenten?" Sakura teased, elbowing the Hyuga gently as she sipped delicately on her horribly sweet drink.

White eyes stared seriously at her, "Of course not, Sakura, that would be inappropriate."

"Right, right," the doctor rolled her eyes, "With you guys working together, and all."

Neji just nodded, turning his cold eyes back to the drink before him. Naruto clapped them both on the back, "Well, I hate to leave you two sticks in the mud here," the blonde slurred, "But I think I'll leave you to sticks in the mud here. Try to have fun!" The blonde sauntered off, and Sakura couldn't help but chuckle at him.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of them, as it was wont to, Neji staring down at the bar while Sakura turned to lean her back against it, drink at hand, as she stared mindlessly at the crowds of people standing, drinking, and dancing alike. She pondered their actions, the harmony with which some of the dancers moved, and Ino was vigilant with keeping the glass she drank from steadily full at all times. Hey, she wasn't hired on the spot for her good looks (although, the pinkette reasoned that her looks played a key role in any employment Ino was granted).

Sakura was almost jealous, almost.

She continued her survey of the dance floor for quite some time (about two or three drinks, actually) until her attention focused on some far off corner to her left where no dancers or patrons deigned to occupy – all but one, lone character, in fact.

Sakura's brows lifted as her slightly tipsy gaze floundered over the masculine figure.

Softly outlined verdant eyes drank in the sight of the intimidating man like taking a shot of hard liquor, one that caused the burning of her throat and watering of her eyes. Leaning against the far wall out of the reach of the obnoxiously oppressive strobe lights, the menacing looking man had ghastly pale skin antagonizing tousled red spikes that fell around hooded thickly outlined eyes, seemingly surveying the crowd with mixed wrath and suspicion. She found she needed a chaser, desperately.

Entirely black lids partially shielded the brightest aquamarine (or were they jade? Hell if she could tell from across the room, with the world already slightly foggy) eyes, their burning lucidity countering their half-lidded gaze and his lounging posture against the wall.

A long, seemingly very thick, black trench coat adorned with a myriad of different metal decorations (chains, handcuffs, bike chains and the like) that was opened widely, exposing the partially shredded black shirt underneath with the word "Sabaku" sprawled in a rusty crimson slanted across his chest. Dark grey pants clung around his wiry waist thanks to a heavy leather belt with an oddly designed metal belt buckle. The partly shredded bottoms met with heavy looking metal boots, one leg crossed over the other as he slouched against the wall.

No one seemed to be paying much mind to the man, unless avoiding him like he was death itself counted as paying mind. He had acquired a rather large berth around him; dancers and drinkers alike kept their distance and gave him space.

Sakura could hardly blame them. Although his physical stature gave little to his intimidating aura, the man seeped danger and rage from his feral eyes to his coiled, tense posture – as if he was prepared to jump out of his skin at the slightest thing that displeased him. Albeit, judging from the fierce glower adorning his pale features, Sakura could assume that there was little that _didn't_ displease him.

Her breath caught somewhere in her throat as he caught her gaze, catching her gawking unabashedly at him from across the floor. The rigid, penetrating glare that caught and paralyzed her made her feel much like a mouse trapped in the claws of a vicious feline, just waiting to be ripped to pieces by those deadly talons and teeth. _Oh god, I'm dead meat, _her mind moaned in terror as he pushed himself off of the wall, his gaze unwavering.

Inner Sakura cheered, daring the stranger to be ballsy enough to approach her and reprimand her for staring. Cha! Sakura could hardly agree.

Whatever advance he planned on making over to her was cut from her vision as a black clad chest suddenly appeared before her emerald gaze. Blinking, Sakura lifted her eyes to meet those of Uchiha Itachi, his dark eyes staring down at her stoically, if not a little questioningly.

Wordlessly, he removed the now empty glass from her fingertips and replaced it with a full one. Yeah, more alcohol, as if _that_ was what she really needed right now.

Regardless, she graciously accepted the glass, tipping her head back and swallowing a healthy gulp. It burned. Maybe that _was_ what she needed.

She nodded her thanks despite the grimace decorating her face as she swallowed. The older Uchiha brother just nodded curtly in response, leaning back on the bar stool next to hers.

"How are you, Sakura?" His baritone voice met her ears like a soft velvet.

She paused from lifting the glass to her lips, glancing up at his uninterrupted gaze. He always seemed to look at her like he knew something she didn't. Then again, this was Itachi, and he probably did. "I'm fine, Ita," her cheerful voice assured, going as far as to even use the nickname she had given him only to be used when no one was within earshot, "How are you?"

The raven haired man shrugged, "I have not seen you."

Sakura just shook her head, "I work a lot."

"Do you enjoy it?"

Emerald eyes blinked in response, confused by the unusual line of questioning from the usually stoic older man, "Of course I do," she replied automatically, sounding entirely too much like an automated recording. "I love it."

Itachi nodded, seeming to accept the answer, causing some of his black bangs to fall across his forehead. She found her slightly drunk self staring and swiftly averted her eyes to the crowd, taking another hearty gulp of the drink he had provided for her. Her calculating eyes didn't find the redhead she had been caught staring at before, which unnerved her.

Suddenly, a pale hand appeared before her, and she lifted her startled gaze to the Uchiha to whom it belonged. "Dance," he said simply after a moment of her staring, as if it should have been obvious.

"I – uh, Ita, I don't –" Her stammering refusal was ignored as Itachi promptly grasped her wrist and pulled her away from her stool, barely allowing her time to place her nearly empty glass on the surface of the bar.

His strong grip pulled her into a messy throng of dancers, the smell of alcohol near the bar had been nothing in comparison to in the middle of the dancing mass, and he stopped only when she was good and lost among the crowd. Itachi turned to her, placing his hands on her hips and patiently waited for the dizzy woman to gingerly rest her palms on his chest. He pulled her closer and swayed them along to the music.

After a few moments of this, Sakura's alcohol induced adrenaline began soring steadily as she became more comfortable with her partner, overcoming the bewilderment of his rare actions. It wasn't every day Uchiha Itachi bought you a drink and pulled you onto the dance floor, you know, no matter how long you'd been friends with him.

They danced for quite some time, his movements were effortless in a way that impressed Sakura, who before tonight, had no idea her friend of many years had this side to him. She reckoned he had a few in him when he had let his forehead fall onto her shoulder and let out a breathy laugh at one point.

Soon after that, a tall, purple haired woman tapped her shoulder and Sakura pulled from her partner, gazing curiously into a pair of round amethyst eyes. "Mind if I cut in?" The voice the sultry woman produced was gravelly, almost from disuse, but seemed to hold no ill intent for the pink haired doctor. After studying her messily cropped purple locks and pierced face for a dizzying moment, Sakura nodded and withdrew from the Uchiha. The leather clad woman nodded, offering her a smirk the pinkette could assume was as close to a smile as this woman got, and slipped her long arms around Itachi with familiarity.

Ah, this must have been the woman Itachi had been seeing for the past few months. Itachi made eye contact with her before nodding at her and beginning to sway – in a much more provocative manner than he had with her - with the odd looking female.

Sakura nodded back before turning and attempting to battle her way through the crowd in effort to get back to the bar. After some difficultly, the pinkette was free of the horde and made a slightly unsteady beeline toward the end of the bar which was currently vacant. No sooner had she hoisted herself onto a stool was Ino before her, asking what she wanted to drink.

Sakura asked for that fruity thing Ino had served her when she first arrived, figuring that it was okay to keep drinking if she just had something light. It was the botched logic of a tipsy mind, in truth, but she took comfort in the semblance of rational thinking anyway. She pulled her cell phone from her back pocket to check the time. 2:04 a.m. blinked back at here. Whoa, she had been dancing with Itachi for like an hour.

Deciding that she was in desperate need for air that wasn't clouded with sweat, music, and alcohol, Sakura pushed herself from the stool and stumbled for a moment before spotting an exit sign above a doorway labeled "employees only." She reasoned that her best friend was an employee and that was good enough as she pushed through the door and entered what appeared to be a lounge. Spotting the exit, the pinkette walked through the door and sighed as the biting winter air soothed her hot skin, the chilly fingers of a breeze sobering her somewhat.

Breathing deeply, the doctor allowed the door to fall shut behind her and stepped further into the alleyway, noticing that the parking lot at the back of the club was to her right, before the stench of cigarette smoke interrupted her happy relaxation. Frowning, her nose scrunched in distaste for the smell of the damn things, Sakura turned on her heel toward the source of the odor, hands on her hips.

Shocked emerald eyes landed on the form of the intimidating redhead she had been caught staring at earlier, leaning on the wall beside the door she had just come through taking a drag from the offending cigarette. Worse of all, she had garnered his attention also and he stared right back at her, exhaling dark smoke through his nostrils.

Two feral sea foam eyes stared down on her, slightly twisted in recognition. A malevolent smirk was beginning to pull at the edges of his pale mouth as he gauged her reaction.

Swallowing, the doctor was floored by the appearance of the man she had been caught staring at earlier now directly in her line of vision. However, that arrogant expression that was beginning to form on his face was just a little bit too much for her wounded pride to handle. Frowning, she glowered, crossing her arms as best as she could over her chest without spilling her cocktail.

"May I help you?" Sakura huffed, staring indignantly into the dead, black rimmed eyes that bore into her face. Seriously, was he trying to stare holes through her?

The redhead pushed himself away from the wall, mirth dancing in his eyes, but did not deign her question with a reply as he continued silently smoking away at his cigarette.

Never one to be ignored, Sakura shifted her weight defiantly, "Cigarettes are bad for you, you know."

This seemed to surprise him, if the pulling of the skin above his eyes was any indication. She noted the partially hidden pattern of a red kanj adorning the left side of his forehead - she thought it read "love" but couldn't be entirely sure. It was then Sakura noticed the ghastly man before her lacked eyebrows. _Great, _Inner Sakura groaned, _a cigarette smoking freak, with no eyebrows to boot._

She ignored the voice, but did acknowledge the fact that the man before her was… odd looking. The pale, almost undead hue of his skin contradicted his slightly strained, wide jade eyes. And then, of course, there were the heavy black lines from, what she presumed was, lack of sleep over an extended period of time. The look he was giving her as she took him in was positively feral, and it took all of her willpower not to take a step back.

Her pride would never have allowed for such a blatant display of weakness.

"I know," he finally replied, slowly, as if waiting for her to bolt. His voice did nothing to surprise her - it was raspy, rough and just downright chilling. How intimidating could he be? He was barely six feet tall, if that and the only muscle on his body seemed to be wiry and lean - nothing too scary. Her eyes fell to his boot clad feet, _hah_, she thought, _he's not even really that tall._

"Then why do you do it?" And just as she decided he wasn't too scary, he was moving toward her rapidly and she nearly tripped on her own feet to back up – pride be **damned** as it gave way to fear - until her back hit gracelessly against the wall of the building across from him. Sakura gasped as the redhead had crossed the distance and stood directly before her, entirely too far in her personal space, if you asked her.

He stared down at her almost incredulously, noting as her expression changed yet again, before his eyes narrowed ferociously. "Because I want to."

The doctor's breath caught and she swallowed visibly, trying to ignore the wafting of smoke from his breath as he hissed at her. "I see you don't mind much for your health, then," she managed to say, her gaze following his hand as it rose to his lips. He took a long drag, staring intently at her jade eyes, before he purposefully exhaled the smoke into her face.

Coughing, Sakura glared wrathfully at the face _insufferable _prick that had the gall to blow those disgusting fumes in her face. Her intoxicated temper got the better of her and, before thinking about the – possibly fatal - repercussions of her actions, she reached up and snatched the cigarette from his pale lips.

He watched her impassively, save for the glower that settled over his face, as she stared at the offending stick in her small, peach palm before dropping it to the floor and crushing it under the toe of her black stiletto.

"Consider it a favor."

The redhead growled at her audacious comment, far from amused, and slammed his palms onto the wall on either side of her head behind her. Sakura jumped slightly, lifting her cautious eyes to meet his enraged ones. Her eyes flickered to the ground, where she had dropped her drink and the glass shattered across the asphalt, before lifting them to meet his again. "You shouldn't have done that," he threatened lowly, leaning toward her menacingly, making her feel quite small – again like a mouse, trapped in front of a hungry cat.

"You shouldn't have blown smoke in my face," Sakura retorted, crossing her arms over her chest, causing them to brush against the front of his mutilated black shirt. She noticed the logo on the front of it and realization hit her. "I bet your boss wouldn't be pleased to know you were stunting your duties to come out here and inhale some cancer."

The skin of his brow lifted again in surprise and it was a moment before he spoke. "Why are you here?"

"I'm here with my friends," she replied defensively, not liking at all the implications of his question. How dare he accuse her of not belonging…! No matter how true those implications would probably be.

He shook his head with a smirk as he removed his hands from the wall and stood up at his normal, slightly slouched, height. He jerked his hand to the side, and she realized what he was asking. "Oh," the esteemed doctor mumbled dumbly, "I was looking for some fresh air."

Haughtily crossing his wiry, pale arms across his chest, Sakura knew what the redhead was saying. It sounded something like, 'It doesn't look like you found any.' Her slowly growing ability to read his vague, nonverbal replies unnerved her.

"Well," she scoffed, daringly poking him in the chest, "I hardly expected to walk out into a cloud of your disgusting _fumes._"

No sooner had she touched him was her hand trapped in his vice-like grip and her body pinned to the wall once more, her hand trapped in between their crushed bodies as he gave her a vicious snarl. "Don't… touch me," he growled into her hair.

She froze, lips parted, before she whispered, "You're hurting me."

A moment of silence.

"Good."

Frowning, the pinkette immediately pushed him off of her. He looked startled by her strength. She had always been strong for a girl of her stature, it was something she took pride in, and it continually came in good use to her whether it be for lifting furniture or carrying a lot of books – or in situations such as these.

"What's your name?" Sakura demanded.

The redhead just stared at her, lips falling into a scowl. He turned and began walking away, intent on leaving her there, until a hand snatched his wrist and yanked him back until he was facing her, now, seething face.

"I asked your name," she repeated slowly, gauging his reaction as her fingers were nearly scalded by the coldness of the skin of his wrist.

"Gaara," he growled, pulling his hand free of her grasp. He took a step away from the woman, suddenly the urge to get as far from her as possible overtook him.

She noticed the way his weight shifted away from her, and was suddenly reminded of a wounded animal. Maybe she wasn't the mouse, after all.

"I'm Doctor Haruno Sakura," she introduced politely, still trying to figure out why she hadn't stomped away from the infuriating man before her, as she shoved her hand out toward him, "It wasn't so nice to meet you. Care to try again?"

Gaara stared at her hand as if it would burn him, opting to ignore the gesture of familiarity, "Not particularly, _doctor._"

Sakura remained unaffected. She even beamed a smile up at him. "Well that's just too bad, Gaara, because we're going to," the finality of her words disturbed him, reminding him immediately of his sister, a woman similar in her demanding ways.

The odd little pink woman strode past him, pulling the door open and pausing in the frame. After a moment of waiting, she glanced over her shoulder at him, "Are you coming? I'm going to need a few more drinks if I'll be talking to you for the rest of the night. After all, you were the one that made me drop mine."

Gaara was torn between ripping her perfect little head off of her perfect little shoulders and high tailing it the _fuck _out of there before she turned on him with a knife, or something. Either way - he reasoned as he took the first step toward what he just knew would be a pounding headache for him later - the slight woman would be nothing he couldn't handle when the time came. Why not amuse himself with the company of a spitfire for the night? If she really grated his nerves, he'd just leave. No harm, no foul.

Sabaku Gaara usually wasn't this wrong.


	4. Drabble 4

Stranger Than Fiction

By Socially Suicidal

Disclaimer: I do _not_ own Naruto

**Drabble # 4**

Sakura was absolutely fuming. Actually, that was an understatement. The pink haired woman was downright _burning_, her rage bubbling to near volcanic levels as she roughly stood, slamming some bills on the table for the iced tea she had ordered some time ago. She stalked out of the restaurant, ignoring the wide-eyed stares and a few snickers she got from waitresses and patrons alike.

She couldn't give a shit less about them. Her mind was more preoccupied by the fact that stupid, menacing, cheeky redheaded _bastard_ had the gall to stand her up.

The young doctor could vividly picture him now, leaning against the bar at the club, smirking viciously as he pictured her embarrassment at sitting alone at a table for _two fucking hours_ while receiving a mixture of pitying and mocking looks from the waitresses who had come by, some offering her words of sympathy while others goadingly rubbed her situation in. Regardless, everyone that approached her table was either reassured that he would turn up or, later on in the night, was snapped at by a rather vicious Sakura.

All she knew was that he would most definitely _not_ be smirking when she was done with him, or rather, when she was done delivering a rather malicious, well aimed kick. No, he would be crying. Could he cry? Regardless, his expression would be pained, not cocky.

Flipping her phone open violently, her manicured finger tips violently punched in his phone number - she had easily memorized it once she had convinced him to reveal it to her before she left the club last night - as she stomped down the sidewalk in the direction of her car. It rang and rang, until finally his voicemail echoed mockingly into her ear. Growling, she waited until the damn thing _beep_ed and she unleashed her fury into the phone receiver as she yanked her car door open and fell into the driver's seat.

"Sabaku Gaara," the door slammed with finality and the engine roared to life, as if echoing its driver's exploding ire, "I will have you know that…" she paused then, suddenly realizing she was playing exactly into his sick game. He wanted her to explode in fury, so he could snicker at her expense and play with her further.

Swallowing, Sakura irritably decided that perhaps screaming at the top of her lungs was, for once, not the way to approach the situation. "I will have you know that I would love for you to stop by my apartment whenever you receive this message. Whatever time of night it is, I'd like you to stop by. It was unfortunate that we were unable to spend dinner together tonight, so perhaps we could chat over a late night drink later. See you then!" The pinkette finished, leaving her address before she hung up.

A deep breath calming her frazzled nerves, Sakura set her phone down and shifted gears, pulling her car out of its spot and beginning the short drive home.

_There_, she thought cheekily, _let's see how he takes __**that**__. You're not the only one who knows how to play games, Mr. Sabaku._

Her message was received by the redhead some hours into the night later. Charcoal rimmed eyes widened fractionally as his voicemail _beep_ed, signaling the end of her message. Gaara shoved an ivory hand through his red spikes. That was certainly not the reaction he had expected from the pinkette. He was expecting her name to show up in his missed calls list, sure, but the message he left was far from what he had anticipated.

He vaguely considered not showing up at her apartment, too, but curiosity gnawed in his gut and got the better of him. He pushed away from the bar and stalked into the backroom, ignoring Ino's questioning voice as he strode by her. The redhead picked up his long trench coat and lighter, exiting through the back door to do everything in his power to avoid more human interaction, as usual.


	5. Drabble 5

Stranger Than Fiction

By Socially Suicidal

Disclaimer: I do _not_ own Naruto

**Drabble # 5 **

It was about fifteen minutes shy of two in the morning when the sharp knock Sakura had been waiting for all night resounded against her door. Pushing herself from her beige couch, the pink haired doctor tugged at the tank top she was wearing for pajamas as she approached the entrance. A quick look through the peak hole of the door confirmed that her late night visitor was, indeed, the threatening redheaded bouncer.

She stepped away, unlocked the door, and swung it open. His burning jade eyes lifted to her beaming face. "Hey, Gaara!" she chirped, forcing down the urge to throttle him for his earlier offense of standing her up at the restaurant they had **agreed** to meet at – well, the restaurant she had convinced him he wanted to meet her at. Well, hardly convinced. But regardless, he said he would go and he didn't.

Gaara offered no sign that he had even heard her greeting and continued to stare at her listlessly, shifting from one foot to the other as the discomfort at being in the vicinity of the strange woman's home coiled in his gut.

The young doctor stepped aside and motioned him in, shutting and locking the door behind him. He watched as she strode around him and turned left into the kitchen. She wore a light blue tank top with a pair of white boxers, her feet left bare. The redhead was surprised she even owned a pair of shorts like that and wondered if they were perhaps a past boyfriend's, or maybe, a current boyfriend's.

Scowling suddenly at the thought, Gaara stepped forward with full intent on finding out _where _exactly the offending things had come from when his path was obstructed by a small, orange, furry… _thing._ It sat indignantly in his way, round green eyes staring up at him impudently. It meowed loudly as he took a step towards it, rising to stand tensely.

Gaara had just brought his foot back as to kick it when Sakura reappeared, holding a glass in each hand, "I see you've met Whisk- Gaara! What are you doing?!" She cried, her emerald eyes wide as she noticed the precarious position of his foot. He lowered it and stared back at her, unblinkingly.

"Were you about to kick my cat?" Sakura asked in disbelief as she shoved one of the glasses into his hand, reaching down to scope up the furry little thing and nuzzled it, cooing, "Don't worry Whiskers, baby, I wouldn't let that mean man hurt you." The feline just stared at Gaara mockingly.

"It's ugly."

Sakura gasped, snapping her attention back at the redhead. The cat snorted. "How dare you! _You're_ ugly," she retorted childishly, turning on one heel and stalking off to her living area. The pinkette placed her glass on the coffee table and settled on the end of her couch, cuddling the purring feline.

He just stood there, glancing down at the glass that had been placed in his hand and considering if he would find the need to knock the entire contents of the thing down in order to spend any more time with the pink woman.

"Well?" Sakura spoke up, eyeing him with a raised brow, "Are you just going to stand there?"

Taking a healthy sip of the liquid as the woman answered his internal dilemma, Gaara slowly approached to stand next to the couch, looming over her and that stupid cat.

"I cannot sit with that… thing," he informed pointedly, almost glowering down at the snarky looking feline.

Sakura sighed, placing Whiskers down on the loveseat to her left. She looked back up at him, both brows raised as she motioned toward the other end of the couch. Grudgingly, he sat down, staring stiffly to the side and crossing his arms across his chest.

She took the moment of deliberative silence, with just the din of her TV humming quietly in the background, to drink in his appearance. If work was where Gaara was when he was standing her up, he had changed clothing since as she noticed the lack of the _Sabaku_ logo sprawled across the chest of his shirt. Instead, he wore a grey short sleeved shirt with a black and red striped long sleeve shirt under it, the sleeves of which had been pushed to his elbows, revealing his pale forearms and the spikey rubber cuffs adorning both of his wrists.

His black, baggy cargo pants had many pockets – she wondered what exactly he could be keeping in all of those, hm? – and zippers and the like, and tucked not so neatly into his, unusual, laced up boots – opposed to the normal buckled ones. A thick chain hung around his neck, a padlock locked into one of the metal links.

"So, where were you today?" Sakura asked nonchalantly as she picked up the remote and switched stations.

Gaara blinked, sipping from his glass. "At the club."

The pinkette ignored the pulsing of a vein in her forehead and continued her questioning, "Did you forget you agreed to meet me at dinner?"

"No."

Her left eye twitched, teeth clenching together momentarily, "Then what happened?"

Gaara shrugged.

The remote clattered against the wood floor as she dropped it, a vein pulsing from her forehead. The redhead regarded her calmly. She swallowed forcefully and gripped the couch cushion, "Right," she murmured with no conviction at all, "Well, you're here now."

"Apparently."

She resisted the urge to leap across her small couch and throttle the stupid stoically arrogant man.

The air was thick with her fuming rage for the few tense moments that followed until Sakura took a deep breath and attempted to disperse the awkwardness.

"Whiskers isn't bad at all, you know," she commented conversationally as she leaned over to the table to retrieve her own glass.

Gaara spared a glance at the cat that was currently attempting to glare holes into his skull before he peered over at the odd woman. "Ugly is a much more suiting name. Does that thing even have whiskers?" Really, the face of the little hairy thing looked oddly hairless.

That was the first time he'd witnessed her pout. "Yes, he does!"

The redhead didn't look convinced.

"Well… I sort of trimmed them," she admitted with a sigh, taking a short sip of her drink.

When she looked up at Gaara, the wrinkled skin of his brow told her he was surprised. Or amused. It also did that when he was angry. He was damn hard to read. "You… cut your cat's facial hair?"

Sakura's face began to burn, "Hey! Don't say it like that. It's just, well, it tickled my face, okay!"

She earned herself the full effect of his gaze as he stared at her as if she had spontaneously sprouted extra limbs, well, his version of that anyway. He wasn't the most expressive. Gaara then shook his head, turning back to his drink and taking yet another healthy gulp.

The doctor scowled, "What was that for?"

Gaara's eyes lifted toward her in question.

"You shook your head at me."

The redhead took his time as he slowly and deliberately placed his now empty glass on the table before he spoke, "I thought I was the fucked up one between us."

Sakura huffed indignantly, standing from the couch and snatching his glass from the table. "I am not fucked up!" She retorted as she marched into the kitchen. Gaara had taken to a glaring contest with the ugly feline when she poked her head back out of the kitchen,

"And neither are you, Gaara," she continued softly before her head disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared.


	6. Drabble 6

_Short note:_ I've really appreciated all of the great feedback I've received for this story! I'm so glad you guys like it as much as I liked writing it. **However**, as much as I enjoy getting undeserved praise for my quick updates, I just want to remind you all that this story is (as far as I know)** completed**! I've just been posting the drabbles periodically to avoid throwing this (I think about 12,000 all together) long series at you!

Also, don't forget there's a link to a collage of some of Gaara's outfits on my bio! Don't forget to check it out! (All current artwork for Stranger Than Fiction was done and is owned by _if i had wings_, a.k.a _AstroAutumn _of dA).

Stranger Than Fiction

By Socially Suicidal

Disclaimer: I do _not_ own Naruto

**Drabble # 6**

Settling against the wall with a huff, Gaara lit a cigarette and took a long drag, deciding he had found a good spot to wait for the moody girl to get off of work. Sakura had left a rather demanding voicemail on his phone earlier that afternoon, suggesting… or ordering, his presence at some nearby café she liked to go to after work. "You'll just love it!" he recalled her voice insist enthusiastically in the message, followed by a rather dangerous, falsely cheery comment of, "You better show, Gaara!" The redhead's brow had twitched as she continued to mention the incident that had occurred weeks ago and had not repeated itself since.

His head rolled unceremoniously against the brick behind him, his energy draining at the very thought.

And that's how the pink haired doctor found him, leaned casually against the wall as if he owned the world and hadn't a care of what went on in it.

One of his customary metal boots was placed heavily supporting him against the brick wall, a pair of destroyed maroon pants, that made his hair look especially flaming red, tucked into them. He hadn't noticed her yet, so she decided to silently study the way he puffed away on his cigarette, staring up at nothing with his hands shoved roughly into his pockets. The long black kanji tattoo on his left forearm arm was exposed by his black tank top, with thin straps and a short sleeved mesh shirt underneath. The graffiti pattern on his shirt, which upon careful scrutiny exposed itself to her as reading "Fuck Off," made her suddenly grateful he has chosen to wait outside for her instead of coming in and giving her coworkers the shock of their career.

Withholding a small smirk and the urge to shake her head at the eccentric redhead, Sakura strode up to his side and leaned her shoulder awkwardly against the wall next to him. Tugging on a strap of the suspenders that hung uselessly from the studded belt that hung low on his hips, she gained the privilege of his attention and he slowly turned his head to gaze down at her. Smiling, the girl leaned onto her toes and quickly plucked the cigarette from his pale lips and promptly stomped it out, "Hello, Gaara."

The bland look on his face shifted into a frown and he exhaled sharply, his equivalent of a sigh, as he grunted back to her in greeting and stood from the wall. "So kind of you to wait for me," said the girl sweetly as she commandeered his arm and began to stroll down the sidewalk.

Ignoring the voice in his head that screamed and demanded for the insolent female's pink little head on a platter for her impudence, Gaara rolled his eyes at the falsely sugary words of the vixen that had just, so heinously, thieved his cigarette and ended its life far before its time.

Gaara was finding he required less and less cigarettes the more time he spent with her. If it was from waning addiction or the fact that she plucked it right from his mouth whenever he lit one, he didn't know.

Sakura elbowed him in the ribs, staring up at him with a frown, "Stand up straight, you'll get back problems from slouching."

He could really go for a nice strong shot, though.


	7. Drabble 7

_Short Note: _I'm posting this one today because I realize the last one was a bit short and perhaps disappointing. So here's a second chapter in one day and some fluff to make up for it (:

Stranger Than Fiction

By Socially Suicidal

Disclaimer: I do _not_ own Naruto

**Drabble # 7**

Gaara seemed to have toned it down a bit to come out to dinner – _Bless his soul, _Inner Sakura chided sarcastically, _he still looks like part hoodlum part mass murderer_ – with her and her friends. The long black v neck t-shirt was too long for his arms, leaving his callused ringed hands partially covered; the seemingly messily cut neckline leaving his long ivory neck, decorated of course with a thick chain and dog tag, exposed. The baggy hem was partially tucked behind his shiny metal belt buckle, with which attached a myriad (though few fewer than was the norm) of chains, varying of lengths and thicknesses, and only one isolated handcuff. Black canvas pants that were (pleasingly) not very baggy on him pooled around his customary metal boot, the only decoration being a thin leather cuff around under his left knee.

Watching her assessment of him with the skin of his brow wrinkled, Gaara gave his unusually tamed red locks a self-conscious tease with his hand, shifting his weight. His movement called Sakura's attention to his red mane, finding herself pleased with the way it seemed he had done nothing to the locks to make himself look more insane than he was (as he usually preferred to do).

She smiled at him pleasantly and, after the moments of speculative silence, motioned him through her door way and invited him into her apartment.

"I'm really, really glad you agreed to come tonight, Gaara," she said in way of greeting as she shut the door behind him. He grunted in response, shoving his hands wearily into his pockets. The pinkette made it sound like she had given him a choice.

What was he supposed to say, Sakura had somehow gotten his tin of cigarettes out of his back pocket and had threatened to throw them out the window of her apartment if he had not agreed to come out with her tonight.

Gaara found himself still sort of miffed about the whole ordeal. When he began valuing his word so much, he didn't know.

"You're going to have a good time, I promise. Naruto will be here, you seemed to really get along with him well the other night when we visited you at work!" Oh yeah, he recalled just how well he had gotten along with the obnoxious blonde who insisted on constantly winding one of his stupid arms around the pink haired woman's shoulders. He also called his love tattoo weird. That kid had less of a social filter than he did.

He crossed his arms across his chest and followed her as Sakura fluttered into the living room, yapping away as she straightened the place up. "Kiba, Hinata, Tenten, Shikamaru, and Neji will be there too. I know you'll get along with Neji - he's the quiet type, like you. And you already know Ino. Oh! And I think Itachi also said he'd be coming. I think you'll like him," she said, smiling at him as she paused in her organizing of the magazines on her coffee table.

Gaara could hardly believe he would take a liking to any male she introduced him too, but humored her anyway by giving a curt nod.

"Itachi's brother probably won't be joining us, though. He never does come out for these things…" she trailed off, and the redhead noted the faraway look in her eyes before she seemed to snap out of it and continue talking as she breezed past him into her bedroom. "No matter, Sasuke will come around one of these days!" The doctor called from her room before emerging with her wallet and jacket in hand.

The red haired man froze, expression slightly shocked as he stared at her, "Sasuke? Uchiha Sasuke?"

Sakura looked surprised, "Yeah, you know him?"

"In passing. So Uchiha Itachi will be there?" Gaara grunted, his mind racing to place the names of faces. He recalled the tall, black haired man he had seen Sakura dancing with the night he first met her with a scowl.

She blinked, "Yeah, do you know Ita too?" The redhead shook his head.

Shrugging on her jacket, Sakura linked her arm in his in the typical fashion she did when they walked anywhere. It was a very European thing to do, she had told him once. He grabbed the car keys off of the hook near the door before they exited, snorting as she would have forgotten them, _again._

Sakura was grateful for his uncharacteristic patience throughout the dinner. In fact, when they arrived at her car, she was downright beaming at him. He shifted uncomfortably when he noticed the gaze. "What?" He mumbled, glaring at the ground in front of him. Was this one of those scary smiles she gave before she unleashed her fury at him? What could he have done now? He was the one that had endured the glare of Uchiha Itachi the entire night and hadn't been allowed to do a damn thing about it (despite the twitching of his hands from the confines of his pockets through out the entire meal).

His breath caught as he felt two warm palms pressing against his jaw followed by her warm breath tingling over his cheek, "Thank you for coming tonight, Gaara, I owe you." Sakura's soft lips pressed against his cheek and she quickly retreated, rounding her car and entering on her driver's side.

Gaara moved to the passenger side with slow, awkward movements that didn't feel like his own. He slid into her car, softly closing the door next to him.

She smiled over at him as she ignited the engine and he wondered if the pink that had spread across her cheeks and nose looked anything like the burning he could feel across his own face. He scowled at the thought.


	8. Drabble 8

_Short Note:_ After this I only have one short chapter written up and that was the planned end of the series. Not sure if it's going to be, but I just thought I'd let you all know :) Maybe I'll keep this series open for any further inspiration I get, who knows. Once again, thank you for all your reviews and continued support!

Stranger Than Fiction

By Socially Suicidal

Disclaimer: I do _not_ own Naruto

**Drabble # 8**

She never regretted something more than when she told Gaara that she owed him.

Well, apart from some questionable choices made in her college days. But that was both irrelevant concerning her current frustration and a story for an entirely different day.

Sakura grumbled as she tugged down the hem of her short black dress and fussed with the strap of her shoe. She couldn't believe that Gaara had tricked her into coming down to the club with him tonight, to spend some time in _his _comfort zone, as he had put it in not so many words. She was getting far too accustomed to his monosyllabic ways.

Huffing, the woman stood up straight, deciding that if the insolent strap did not want to comply with her will, so be it. As long as the damn thing didn't fall off, she didn't care.

Staring into the mirror of her vanity, she pushed her pink fringe back momentarily before shaking her head and pulling her bangs back to her face. The pinkette rubbed at her eyeliner and frowned when it didn't do what she had intended. Sighing, she wondered why she was going through such trouble in the first place.

A pounding on her front door followed by a _click _that signaled the knocker had simply picked her lock and entered her apartment reminded her _why_. Her eye twitched as she realized he broke in, despite her telling him for the _umpteenth_ time not to do that. It unnerved her, how easily someone could get in despite the expensive lock she had installed on the door. Gaara had just shrugged, mumbling something about it being harder than he made it look. The doctor certainly hoped so.

Shaking her head to clear her muddled thoughts, Sakura surveyed her outfit one last time before exiting her room. Ino's tight black dress ended a little too far up on her thighs for her personal comfort but at least the long sleeves and modest collar made her feel a bit more secure. She picked at one of the two straps of the belt that wound across her waist, crossing over the openings in the dress on either of her hips.

Yeah, she would never own anything like this. Ino had actually given it to her saying it didn't flatter her in the way she needed it to. One look at the rather modest collar and sleeves told her all she needed to about what her friend had meant.

Sakura sighed again, realizing she had been keeping him waiting with her ridiculous fussing and self-consciousness. She sprayed on her perfume as she exited her room, flicking off the lights as she did so.

She then caught sight of Gaara and her steps halted almost immediately. The damn loose strap on her shoe merely sent her tumbling with her sudden stop, or so she reasoned.

A red shirt, barely a shade brighter than his hair, clung to his chest and long thin torso in a way that Sakura had immediately deemed sinful. The wide neckline left a portion of his pale collarbone exposed and the thick chain he wore was short around his neck. The tattoo she knew to be proudly decorating his bicep was covered by the sleeves that reached his elbows. His ripped dark gray jeans hung _far_ too loose on his hips, leaving a short patch of alabaster skin low on his abdomen exposed, a crooked studded belt doing nothing to aid in holding them up fell uselessly from his hip.

Gaara stood expectantly; boot-clad feet planted heavily shoulder width apart. His one hand dug into his pocket while the other held a black jacket casually over his shoulder as his bored jade eyes met hers. Swallowing down the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat, Sakura slowly approached him, finding herself more than normally conscience of her shaky steps and feet as she made her way.

His appreciative gaze slid down her form for a moment before he turned toward the door, 'Ready?' the look he gave her from over his shoulder meant. She grabbed her keys and jacket from the counter before nodding to the affirmative.

Sakura strode in front of him to her front door, allowing him a nice view of her swaying tightly clad behind. She waited for him by the door, turning to face him when she realized he remained unmoving in the spot she left him. He waited for her to open the door and walk out before he continued after her, pulling on his jacket as he followed behind her at a good distance.

It couldn't be said Sabaku Gaara was a man to pass up an opportunity.

* * *

Sakura had already established that she was definitely not as comfortable in the club scene as Gaara appeared to be. Then again, the redhead worked there, so the predatory look in his usually hunting eyes that seemed to glow under the neon lights only made sense. Right?

It was just… Sakura could swear people were whispering about her. She hadn't heard anything direct as of yet, but she just had that feeling, the odd one of people staring as she walked by.

"What the fuck! Look at that!" Look at what? Sakura's emerald eyes flew around the surrounding area as she waited for Gaara outside of the office door. She tugged at the tips of her hair subconsciously. It was a habit.

"Whoa, she's with him?" He came out of the room and grabbed her wrist in his typical fashion, dragging her along to the bar.

"Looks like someone's tamed the beast!" Sakura ordered drinks for both of them, her wide emerald eyes shifting occasionally to the patrons seating along the bar. They all looked away when she glanced at them. She must have been some type of freak to these regular club-goers.

"What is she doing with that creepy guy?" An unmistakable whisper greeted her ears as Ino placed their drinks in front of them. The blonde bartender blanched, sending her pink headed friend a sympathetic look before moving on to her next patron.

Gaara growled at the man, sending him his most vicious glares as the fear stricken man ceased his eyes from roaming over the form of his pink haired companion. He was proving them right, snarling like an animal and wrapping a crushing arm around her waist before he dragged her from the bar, but he didn't care. She didn't deserve their sneers - she had done nothing but make the mistake of agreeing to come out with him tonight - those were for him and him alone.

Although, there was a tiny, goading voice in the back of his mind that insisted he turn around and pulverize the bastard that _dare_ look at her like a piece of meat. The rational side of him insisted it would only convince her of the truth of the sneering jibe directed at him and it would send her flying in the opposite direction before he could process her turning around. One side quickly won over the other.

The redhead pulled her outside through the lounge and stopped once the door swung shut behind them, leaving them alone in the alleyway they had first met and Sakura slightly breathless from their quick departure. She placed their glasses on a fold-out chair surrounded by cigarette butts and other discarded glasses.

Turning to him, Sakura tried to assess the look in his smoldering jade eyes before slowly approaching him. It was easy to see that the fuming ire that was evident in those eyes was more than of the norm.

His hand had an unlit cigarette and his lighter moving away from his pocket before her left hand stifled the movement and wrapped around his knuckles.

"You're not creepy," the pinkette murmured, the palm of her other hand moving across his cheek tentatively, "You're just… intense, sometimes."

The dry look he gave her prompted her to correct herself.

"Most of the time."

This time he nodded, seemingly in agreement, before placing his hand on her hip and tugging her crudely until her body crashed unceremoniously against his.

His mouth descended roughly on hers soon after.

_Yeah, _Sakura thought dazedly as his teeth grazed her bottom lip, _intense is a good word for it._


	9. Drabble 9

_Short Note:_ Well I'm sad to say this is the last drabble I have written. I have a short orientation tomorrow and then classes start up again Friday. I hope you enjoy this one (I'd say it is one of my favorites) and give me lots of feedback!

I think I'm going to leave this story open, in case the muse strikes.

Stranger Than Fiction

By Socially Suicidal

Disclaimer: I do _not_ own Naruto

**Drabble # 9**

She wasn't trying to disturb him, in fact, it was curiosity that had finally convinced Sakura to rise from bed and approach the pale silhouette of the man on her small balcony. After tugging the sheet rather crudely from the bed they had shared and wrapping it securely around her, the pink haired doctor was carefully padding across the room, trying in vain to silence her movements as to not alert the redhead man of her state of consciousness.

It was a rare occurrence, indeed, for Sakura to be blessed enough to witness Gaara in such a relaxed state of serenity.

The moon provided just enough light for her to make out the blank expression on his stony face. She could just make out his profile as he inhaled yet another drag from what she had deemed his cancer sticks, his bare shoulders slouched slightly as he leaned forward on the railing. A particularly cold, spring breeze passed them by and Sakura could only help but wonder how his exposed chest could stand the brisk air.

Sakura felt her lips involuntary purse as her eyes traveled down his half-naked form, noting the navy sweatpants that hung low on him were the only garment obstructing her view of his skin.

She failed to notice when he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. His gravelly voice startled her before he took another, rather long, drag from his cigarette, "Staring is rude." The doctor glanced abashedly away from him and toward the quiet city he had been staring at, embarrassed at being caught in one of her less dignified moments.

"You're wearing my sweatpants, you know," Sakura murmured indignantly as she moved from the doorway to stand at his side, now offering a short glance up at his face.

Gaara leaned his head back, cloudy sea foam eyes seemingly focused on the moon, causing some of his spikey stresses to grant her vision of the multiple piercings decorating his ear, and slowly exhaled the deep grey smoke into the night. She swallowed thickly, eyes falling across the strong line of his pale, unmarred neck.

His head fell forward and he turned to her with his usual intense, enigmatic stare that revealed nothing. She thought she would be used to it by now, but the shivers that wracked her frame could hardly be attributed to the cold night air. Regardless, Sakura pulled the sheet tighter around her form. It was a moment before he spoke, "Would you prefer I wore nothing?"

Blush returning with a vengeance, Sakura avoided his gaze and stared out at the infinite sky again, as if her face wasn't producing enough heat to warm them both and then some, "I didn't say that."

The redhead snorted arrogantly, though offered no retort.


	10. Drabble 10

_(Not So) Short Note:_ Happy October! I regret to inform you that it took a prompt to write this installment. The prompt was: _It was the thought that counted._

In other (very exciting news) this series has nearly fifty reviews, nearly twenty favorites, and forty follows to date. You all have no idea how much this means to me. This installment is for all of you. Thank you so much.

Also, thank you to Habit, who followed this story about a week ago. If you see this, I want you to know you actually made my entire week. It meant so much to be to see that one of my favorite authors, who I have looked up to for quite some time, followed one of my stories. Words cannot express. _(I fangirled, I admit it.)_

**Important:** I've also realized that probably the best way to make sure this series continues is the use of a poll. **So, you'll find a poll at the end of this drabble**. You can choose from the list of options or submit your own for what you want to see in the next installment. If I really like two of the choices and can't decide, I'll just do two! So please, **vote away**!

Stranger Than Fiction

By Socially Suicidal

Disclaimer: I do _not_ own Naruto

**Drabble # 10**

There were many times in his life that Gaara had doors slammed in his face. Actually, he had had doors slammed on him, glasses hurled at him, bats swung at him, and, of course, fists thrown at him. So, when she slammed the door in his face, he was hardly shaken up. He blinked apathetically, before turning on his heel and stalking down the hallway of her apartment building, intent on getting a late night drink elsewhere.

The following day, however, when he had sent her a text message requesting her presence at the club that night because he had gotten stuck working and was awfully and utterly bored and had received no answer in any form, spending the night by himself as a result, he was slightly ticked. Perhaps not irritated to an extent, but certainly curious at her dismissal of him.

Gaara decided to wait a few days before attempting communication again. He met the same results. Now irritated, he shrugged it off and decided to cease his attempts. There was obviously some reason behind her staunch avoidance of him, but he was honestly ignorant of it. Perhaps she was having a stressful time at work. Or maybe it was that frightful womanly time of month. The possibility of her taking either of these out on him further fueled his irritation, but having a pool of logical explanations helped to some extent.

About a week later, it was surprisingly on her account that he had contact with her. Admittedly, it was unplanned when they had practically collided with one another at the small café she had taken him to that one day months ago after she had gotten off of work. Despite Gaara's knowledge of her frequenting of it, he had not at all planned to run into her there before he went to work. It was simply a convenient place to stock up on caffeine after another sleepless night and before another long one.

He told her as much in response to her immediate jump to conclusions, "I ignored you so you decided to _stalk_ me, Gaara?!"

Sakura's eye twitched at his bland response explaining his innocent intentions for being in the coffee shop. "Sure, sure," she huffed, side stepping him to continue her journey to the door.

He grabbed her arm, demanding with narrowed eyes, "Why have you been ignoring me?"

She recognized the dangerous warning tone in his voice, but her wrath from nearly two weeks ago still bubbled violently within her, fueling her courage, "Don't play dumb, Gaara, you know what you did!"

Scowling, he yanked her closer, earning them both the concerned stares of a few of the patrons. He wearily regarded them before directing his attention back to the pinched expression of the woman staring up at him. "I do **not**."

Sakura sensed the possibility of this discussion taking a rather explosive turn, as conversations of this kind between them were prone to do, "This is not the place for this, but you _do_ know the reason I'm mad at you. _Think about it._"

With that, she tugged her arm free of his grip, aware that the redhead could do nothing to stop her from doing so with all of the eyes on them, and stomped out of the coffee shop.

Gaara exhaled sharply, akin to an angry sigh, before turning to the counter, intent on getting double the caffeine he had originally intended. Maybe he could drown his sudden overwhelming craving for nicotine in espresso. But damn, did that woman make him need a cigarette.

* * *

After another long night spent alone working at the club, Gaara thought he had pinpointed the cause of the pink haired woman's wrath. When his shift finally ended, he made quick work of closing up before shrugging on his worn, chain ornamented leather jacket before stepping into the pre-summer night air.

The season had just begun its mutating, morphing from a mild, breezy spring into heightened temperatures with stronger sun during the day and humid air during the night. As he walked the distance from the club to Sakura's apartment, he almost regretted his choice of fitting distressed cargo pants and the grey wife beater he wore under his shredded _Sabaku_ work shirt.

When he finally arrived at Sakura's door, at some outrageous hour in the morning, he could feel the light layer of sweat coating the back of his neck. Wasting no time with knocking, he easily picked the lock and slipped into the darkness of her home. The TV was still on, illuminating the living room with shadows and small voices from whatever shows Sakura had fallen asleep watching. He crept over to the couch where she was sprawled out, fast asleep.

Gaara frowned at her state of dress – or lack thereof, a she sported a pair of boxers that he sincerely hoped were his and a thin tank top – before turning and cracking open the window, letting in some breezy air. She shifted as it ghosted across her skin, but he quickly discarded his jacket and laid it across her, ceasing her movement as she settled peacefully. Pulling off his shirt, he wrapped her naked legs in it before turning the small loveseat next to the couch, clad now in just his pants and wife-beater. Scowling, he shooed the slumbering feline occupying it off, earning himself a kitty glare accompanied by a disgruntled hiss from the spoiled feline. Ignoring the ire from the tiny animal, Gaara fell into the now vacant seat.

Deciding it was a particularly bad idea to wake her from her slumber to discuss and promptly end the anger she harbored for him, the red head dropped his feet onto her coffee table and slouched in the chair, intent on resting until she woke up.

* * *

She awoke to the sound of birds chirping, which was odd, because she knew she had purposely left the windows closed to avoid the irritating morning sound. Blinking, Sakura stretched out her now sore back, from sleeping on the couch, as awareness crept over her and sleepiness stubbornly dragged its feet in its departure.

Glancing down at her body, her brow cocked at the worn leather jacket and shredded shirt haphazardly wrapped around her. Setting them aside and sitting up, she was moderately surprised to see the slumbering form of Gaara in a rather uncomfortable looking position sprawled across her love seat.

She stood up, quickly folding the man's shirt and jacket and placing them back on the couch, before tip-toeing into the kitchen. Sakura put some coffee on and began preparing a small breakfast for the two of them. As angry as she was with him, she refused to let the man go hungry in her presence. Who knows when the last time he deigned to nourish himself was without her there to goad him into it, anyway?

He awoke to the smell of coffee permeating the air and wafting lazily into his nose like a wake-up call. His eyes flew open, immediately falling onto the couch, expecting the form of a sleeping woman to still be there. When he found the spot vacant, he was on his feet and half way into the kitchen before he could even check the time.

Sakura stood in front of the stove, back facing him, flipping some bacon in a pan and cracking some eggs into a bowl. A whole tomato and a few other fruits sat on the cutting board next to her. When she heard him open the cabinet where she kept her mugs, she greeted, "I see you're awake."

Gaara didn't offer a response, instead just silently turned the coffee machine off and poured himself a generous serving of scalding hot black coffee. She watched him as he lifted it to his lips from over her shoulder. "Did you need something last night?" Sakura asked, returning defiantly to the meal she was preparing and pouring the eggs into the pan.

"Yes," he grunted shortly, staring at the back of her mussed pink head.

She waited a moment before prompting, "Well…?"

"I know why you're angry at me."

The pink haired woman scoffed before she picked up a strawberry and popped it into her mouth, "Took you long enough."

"I do not understand why my joining you in the shower is such an ordeal."

Sakura nearly choked.

She whirled on him, the food on the stove momentarily forgotten. Swallowing roughly, she squeaked, "What?!"

His blank stare was unwavering.

"_That's_ what you think this is about?"

He blinked, nodding shortly, suddenly uncertain.

"Oh, Gaara," she mumbled, rolling her eyes as she turned back to the stove. Removing the pan from the heat, she shoveled the contents onto two plates. She shook her head with a sigh, "You're not even close."

Sakura had just begun slicing up the fruit when she sensed his presence much closer to her back, his grumbling, grating voice much closer than it had been, "Then what the fuck is wrong with you?"

Frowning at the crude way in which he asked the question, she divided the fruits onto both of their plates before turning to face him, "You idiot, I'm not angry about _that_. I'm angry about what you did to Itachi!"

He blinked, back straightening in surprise. Sighing at his taken aback expression, Sakura pressed on, "Oh, come on Gaara, how did you expect me to react? _You pulled a knife on him_, for Kami's sake!"

The redhead just cocked his head to the side, bewildered, "He touched you," he said simply.

Her pale face contorted in some odd expression he couldn't quite understand, "He was helping me out of the car! Like a _gentleman_. That does not give you the right to _pull a weapon_ out of your pocket!"

His jade gaze was unwavering as he stared her down.

"Yes, it does."

Exasperated, Sakura threw her hands into the air. "You are _in_sufferable, do you know that? Totally _un_reasonable. And here I expected that you came last night to apologize!" She exclaimed with a laugh, shaking her head at her own stupidity.

"I had, just not for that."

Frowning, she glared up at him, "Are you going to apologize to Itachi?"

"Is he going to touch you again?"

A frustrated sound escaped her throat and she had a strong urge to reach up and yank her hair out. Or maybe his. "Probably!"

"Then I will not apologize to him," Gaara reasoned simply, staring down at her with eyes that told her there was no room for further argument. She sighed.

A moment of silence passed.

"Do you forgive me yet?"

Sighing, Sakura deflated, "You didn't even know what you were apologizing for."

Gaara just shrugged, pushing against her face with his cheek as he pressed his forehead against the warm skin of her neck.

Despite his reasons being dementedly wrong, Sakura appreciated the sentiment behind the almost apologetic action. It was the thought that counted, after all.

* * *

**What do you want to see next installment?** _Pick one of the prompts below or submit your own._

**Poll:**

1: A real scene of jealous Gaara?

2: Jealous Sakura?

_Or, a prompt true to form:_

3: And in that moment, Gaara regretted ever agreeing to climb into this monkey suit. If only he could have resisted the wiles of the woman that beamed up at him as she adjusted the tie constricting his wind pipe.

4: Submit your own?

_Thank you! See you next time._


End file.
